


Repossessed

by bootson



Series: Cages Verse [3]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Panic At The Disco, Young Veins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, Gen, M/M, Slavery, hc_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootson/pseuds/bootson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabe's property is illegally seized, and there is very little they can do to get the boys back before the holiday weekend. (Prequel to the other works in this series: In the Back of Your Head & Void and Null. Those don't need to be read for this to make sense, but it's more emotional if you know the rest of the story first.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repossessed

**Author's Note:**

> For hc_bingo prompt: loss of possessions
> 
> I’ve been promising this to people for…forever. Thank you to _everyone_ who asked for it and/or encouraged it. I’m glad _this_ is what broke me out of my writing slump.

They had to do something. _Gabe_ had to do something.

The estate was quiet. The appraisers and collectors had been gone for no more than fifteen minutes, and no one had said a word in the aftermath.

Everything in the sitting room was strewn about, office in disarray, and bedrooms full of upended drawers. This did not look like the same house Victoria was always meticulously cleaning while viciously belittling them all for being so scattered and disorganized. 

Nothing was sitting right, and Gabe didn’t know what to do.

Ryland blinked at Alex who reached out to grip Gabe’s shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Alex whispered, voice rough from yelling and the effort of turning a blatant lie into the semblance of a truth.

“Fine? It’s not even remotely fucking fine,” Gabe snapped. 

Shrugging Alex’s hand off, Gabe reached up to tug at his hair. Pacing made the stress-tensed muscles in Gabe’s back stretch, but the relief was secondary to everything else.

“We’ll figure this out,” Ryland tried. He was already pulling his overcoat from the hall closet, shrugging into it and searching the pockets. “I’ll speak with the bank manager. This was a mix-up. We’ll have it straightened out in –“

“You _did_ actually read the forms they brought, right?” Alex asked. He was repeatedly shaking his head, a sure sign he couldn’t work out the answer to this whole issue. “There’s a lien on everything until Gabe pays back taxes.”

“I don’t _owe_ back taxes!” Gabe knew he was yelling, but he was too far past caring to moderate inconsequential things like volume. “Ryland and Ryan do my paperwork. Ryland might miss something, but Ryan is the most meticulous bastard I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” Ryland protested.

“He’s not wrong,” Alex put in. “For a slave, Ryan knows his bookkeeping.”

“For a _free man_ , Ryan knows his bookkeeping.”

“He’s not actually free, Gabe. None of them are.” Serious wasn’t something Ryland usually sounded. Currently, he’d bypassed it all together and gone straight for morose. “If we’d emancipated them, they wouldn’t be marching in chains right now.”

“You know I couldn’t free them,” Gabe muttered, knowing it wasn’t true. 

Every one of them could have been freed: Brendon, Ryan, Spencer. Jon’s debts could have been forgiven the day after Gabe took his contract. Every slave Gabe had inherited from his family had been freed long ago simply by asking. William bought and freed at least one slave a year, granted most of them chose to stay on his estate and be paid for their services, but they didn’t have to. If William, the _Baronet_ Beckett, could do it with his higher title and larger estate, Gabe should have.

He threw himself back onto the sofa, miscellaneous pages crumpling under his weight. Normally, this type of behavior was purely for dramatic effect and emotional flair, but Gabe was barely aware of his actions. He buried his face in his hands. 

“And it wouldn’t matter, anyway. They took Jon and _Victoria_. Jon’s indentured, and Victoria’s free,” Alex added.

Nate chose that moment to come striding in from the kitchen. His clothing was rumpled in a way that meant he’d run most of the way across their acres. 

“But she’s a servant, and we didn’t have documentation, yet,” he snapped, a bit breathless. “Here.”

Gabe took the paper Nate thrust at him, staring at it with unseeing, glazed over eyes.

“For fuck’s sake,” Alex muttered and tugged the sheet free. He perused it, snatching the rest of the stack from Nate’s fingers. “At least we can get Vicky-T back. Good work, Nate.” His voice went a bit softer when he looked at Nate, but Gabe didn’t have the energy to listen to their weird mating ritual, not after the way the day had unfolded.

“She had them in her jewelry box; the one she fucking _locks_ ,” Nate complained. “She’ll kill me later, but she’ll be back. She can do whatever the hell she wants as long as we have her back.”

It was true. Gabe was willing to give Victoria anything if they managed to rescue her from whatever mess he’d gotten them into. 

“What about Walker’s?” 

“I don’t know,” Nate sighed. “His suite is full of everything except his documentation. I didn’t find it in your office, the art room, or Brendon’s music room. I thought Spencer had everything organized from when he went on that fit last month, but nothing’s where it should be.”

Ryland swore under his breath for a minute. “If the collectors found them near the ownership forms, they probably took them. More money to the plaintiff if they sell more bodies.”

Gabe opened his mouth, but wheels crunched against the rocks of the front lane. He was on his feet and pulling the front door open before the horses brought the carriage to a halt. The remainder of his friends crowded into the foyer behind him, practically pushing Gabe onto the stone landing.

A tall, lanky man in an ordinary, drab but neat suit slipped from his seat. He rounded the carriage and pulled the door open, bowing in a way that proved he was a product of one of the more expensive slave training houses. The shiny, green, ostentatious walking stick appeared first, followed by shoes shined to a degree Spencer Smith would covet. Pinstripes and carefully tailored lines followed until Jacob Crown was smirking at Gabe from beneath his pompous top hat.

“Ah. Lord Saporta.” He called, striding closer. His walking stick clicked ominously with every step. _Tap, drag, tap._. “I hear tell you’ve had… visitors this afternoon.”

Gabe cleared his throat and drew himself to his full height. He fought the urge to fidget with his waistcoat but was determined not to give this random bureaucrat the satisfaction of seeing a superior squirm. 

“I fail to see how my affairs are of the slightest concern of yours, Crown.”

Jacob laughed. “Oh, but it is my business, you see. Because I believe I owe you a debt. But your debt far outweighs that now, does it not? I’m offering to negotiate my balance.”

Pieces started to fall slowly into place. The Crowns ran the hotel in town. Jacob was the prodigal son, a wayward miscreant who couldn’t hold his liquor and didn’t know when to fold a hand. Gabe took his money like it was little more than dust on the bottom of a shoe.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Jacob shrugged. “I perhaps spoke with my cousin who may have been unable to locate your more recent property taxes. Curiously unfortunate for you.”

“You smarmy son of a bitch,” Nate growled. He shot passed Gabe, nearly clearing the steps before Alex yanked him back by the shoulder.

“Ah, ah. I’d call off your guard dogs. Which,” Jacob spun a slow circle, “shouldn’t there be more? Those overprotective, pampered pets of yours? Sorry excuses for slaves, to be sure, but cute in their way.”  
Slowly, carefully, controlled, Gabe advanced. He put a hand to Nate’s chest to push him back in passing, but his gaze never wavered. Mere inches from the much shorter Crown, Gabe stopped. He reached out, laying a heavy hand over the one Jacob was resting on the gold encrusted tip of the walking stick.

Gabe couldn’t hear anyone breathing, not even this sadistic bastard. All Gabe heard was the blood rushing in his own ears and the echoes of Victoria’s pleas, Brendon’s whimpering, Spencer’s cursing, Jon’s bitten off yells, and Ryan’s silence racing through his memory.

“If you had anything to do with this, and I _will_ find out if you did, I will end you.” Gabe’s voice was soft but punctuated by harsh breaths and emphatic intent. “I will destroy everything you own, enjoy, lease, or cherish. If I do not have my people back by the end of the business day, you will regret _ever_ crossing my path.”

Jacob swallowed but stood his ground. “I would like to see you prove anything, Saporta.”

“Oh, oh, I will.” Gabe grinned, teeth flashing and eyes narrowing. “Because people talk. People talk to me and mine. They tell us stories, and everyone’s favorite antagonist is a lay-about drunk who never met a losing bet he disagreed with. If it comes down to you and me? I will own you and have you sold to the first brothel I can find. Do I make myself clear?”

“You wouldn-“

“Am I _clear_ , Mr. Crown?”

“You would do no such thing.” Jacob stepped back, tugging emphatically at the walking stick Gabe refused to release. 

“No one has ever accused me of kindness or forgiveness, Crown. Ask around. They know my reputation as well as yours.” 

On Jacob’s next strong tug, Gabe let go. Jacob stumbled. He would have fallen if not for bumping into the edge of his carriage. He muttered under his breath, but Gabe refused to look away.

“I will have my people back and the lien removed from my accounts. Understood?”

Jacob smacked the walking stick against his slave’s legs when the man failed to open the door quickly enough. “All government offices close early for the holiday. I don’t know what you would have me do, even if I were responsible.”

Gabe simmered. He snapped his fingers, and Nate strode forward. 

“Actually, I’m quite fond of grudges. Even if you can work magic, I may see you staring from behind bars before the month is out. Nate, kindly escort Mr. Crown from the property and to see my account managers in town.”

“My pleasure, my lord.” Nate sounded dangerous. He was small, but fiery. The only person Gabe knew who had a better bitch face was Spencer. “I’m sure Mr. Crown wouldn’t mind allowing me to accept the seat across from him.”

“Actually, I find that – “ Crown complained, but the slave had opened the door further, motioning inconspicuously with his free hand for Nate to enter. 

Nate waved from the carriage window as the slave took his seat and urged the horses forward. Gabe didn’t think he was imagining the grin or wink the slave threw Gabe’s way before directly the carriage down the lane.

Gabe spun and strode up the steps. His shoes pounded through the foyer and into his office. He moved the old portrait he’d commissioned in India when he was infatuated with the snake charmer who had eyes remarkably like Victoria’s. The safe was easy enough to open, but there weren’t as many currency notes as he would have liked.

“Take this,” Gabe told Ryland. 

Ryland took the bills but didn’t move. “What are we doing?”

“You and Alex are going to get Victoria and negotiate to buy the boys.”

Flipping through the handful, Ryland whistled. “This isn’t going to be enough for all four. They’ll never come down this low on a package. At best, we’ll get one.”

“Then bring home whoever you can,” Gabe snapped, searching for his pocket watch. It was getting late in the day, and if there was any hope of tracking down his lawyer before everything shut down for the weekend, Gabe needed to move.

“Which one do you think that will be?” Alex asked, a cross between incredulous and irritated. “Ryan’s a bed slave, and young enough for his price to be twice this. Brendon is a novelty, a specialty slave. Knowing one instrument gets him this price, without any additional skills. Spencer is trained in house, field, and stable work. Not to mention, he has the look of a bed slave when he’s staring someone down. Jon, maybe, but he’s a genius with animals and amiable. They’re all worth more than this.”

“Fucking _negotiate_!” Gabe yelled. “Isn’t that what I pay you for? Make it work. Save them before they go somewhere we can’t find. Bribe a fucking trader to keep them in one place. I don’t _care_. But get them _back_.”

“Gabe,” Ryland took him by the shoulders. Gabe wasn’t even aware he’d moved so close. “We will do what we can. We’ll figure something out. Do what you need to do. We’ll name drop, bring Bill into it we have to.”

“Good,” Gabe took a deep breath. “That’s good. Do that. Make it work. I’m going to see Ruess about making Crown a disgrace and freeing the boys when they’re home.”

“Do that,” Alex said. He squeezed Gabe’s bicep and pulled Ryland away.

“Take the carriage. You’ll need the space. I’ll ride,” Gabe told them, walking them to the main entrance.

“Make sure the doors are bolted,” Ryland called over his shoulder, already following Alex out and toward the stable.

Gabe watched them go, waited until they disappeared into the stable to ready their horses for hauling the carriage. He took a few minutes to breathe, calm his nerves and get his heart under control. His blood was racing through his veins, head pounding against the desire to scream and break things. 

He needed a minute before he was presentable enough to appear respectable in town. Ryland and Alex were leading the horses toward the carriage house before Gabe forced himself inside to check the doors.

Sighing, he shook his head and stared at the marble of the foyer. He should have let them go, released them when he had the chance. The slaves. They should have been freemen by now. Gabe really had thought it was better this way, that they would be happier if they didn’t have to worry about the annoyances of a free man’s life but were able to do whatever they wanted, find their own dreams and follow them.

He’d thought he was doing them a favor.

“I was protecting them,” he explained to the empty house, futilely, for the millionth time. At some point, Gabe worried he’d stop believing it.


End file.
